Rat didn’t stay long.
Though Madame Blaise still couldn’t see Rat, the servitor had assigned her new young (invisible) mistress an extremely luxurious bedchamber. Rat took a moment or two to explore the amenities she would not, in fact, be enjoying.
But within minutes, she had entered the darkened corridor and was kneeling before Teyo’s door to pick the lock to his room. She entered quietly. He was out like a light, snoring softly.
Adorable, adorable.
Rat crawled onto the bed beside him. He was dead to the world and had no idea she was there. For some reason, she found this strangely reassuring. Rat was so accustomed to her curse, it rarely bothered her. But tonight had been different. Frankly, it had been brutal—brutal because she had been noticed. Now it was a relief to be once again unobserved.
Without waking him, Rat kissed Teyo goodbye—on the cheek—and departed first his room, then the dark corridor and ultimately the entire Cathedral Opulent.
In no time, she was on Tin Street, where multiple celebrations of the day’s victory were in full swing. Folks toasted the dead, the heroes, each other. The nervous, relieved laughter of survivors filled the air. As dozens of inebriated Ravnicans passed her by without a second glance—or a first glance, for that matter—Rat found a shadowed doorway, slid to the filthy ground in her newly cleaned clothes and had herself a good cry.